


Put Out the Fire (but not the one in my heart)

by omelet



Series: You Are My Fire [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Firefighter!Stiles, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, and kissing booths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:45:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omelet/pseuds/omelet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek thinks this is getting a little out of hand. Because honestly, he never would have guessed that he would one day come to own a firemen-themed calendar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put Out the Fire (but not the one in my heart)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Swing Set in December (swing_set13)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swing_set13/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Потуши огонь](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4943569) by [munta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/munta/pseuds/munta), [omelet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/omelet/pseuds/omelet)



> For swingsetindecember (aka Jen, can I call you by first name even or is that awkward). Because her prompts made me wake up early and be productive.
> 
> I merged the firefighter au with the kissing booth prompt. Because I am out of control. I hope this is okay /o\
> 
> Unbeta'd.

There has to be a syndrome for this.

Florence Nightingale syndrome? Or is that just with doctors?

Derek sits on the couch, arms crossed over his chest, and stares hard at his wide brown eyes, his pink lips curved in an awkward yet charming smile, his hands -

His eye twitches. This must be some sort of temporary sickness, or a psychological thing, because this crush - that's all it is, a _crush_ - is incredibly distracting.

A series of knocks interrupt his thoughts. Shaking his head, he stands, grabbing his already cooled cup of coffee on the way to the door. He wrenches the door open, revealing Laura, her hand poised to knock again.

"Hey bro," Laura says with a knowing grin. Derek scowls at her, standing aside to let her in. There's a spring in her step that he doesn't trust.

"What's got you so happy?" Derek asks with apprehension because things that makes Laura that happy often mean torture for him. Boy band concerts, high school reunions, horror movie marathons -

She just hums, making a beeline for his chaotic cork board on the wall, where he has all his references for his work. He doesn't bother to stop her because it's really a fruitless endeavor. She presses a finger against one of the papers, a newspaper article. "'Hero saves school from burning down'," she purses her lips, impressed. "Oh, that looks super relevant to accounting."

"What do you want?" Derek grunts rudely. He loves Laura and all, but he doesn't get to enjoy the temporary breaks in her 26 years of teasing as much as he would like.

Laura looks away from the board and puts her hands on his shoulders, which he glances at with suspicion. "I'm here to help you, Derek," she says seriously. She points at the board, specifically the firemen calendar, strategically placed in the mess of papers pinned on his bulletin board. "This is becoming a problem."

"Oh my god," Derek says miserably, downing his coffee, holding on to the sliver of hope that someone had mercifully poisoned it.

"Also, that calendar is painfully old," Laura adds. "It's still on November. Of last year. I would've bought you this year's but I'm not going to be your enabler."

Worst sister ever. 

"I'm really okay with the falling in love part -," to which Derek makes a noise of protest because he's not in love with the guy, _he's not_ , "but you should at least try to make a move instead of gazing longingly and kinda creepily at a shirtless photo of him." 

"I'm not just creepily staring at him. I know his name." Laura raises an eyebrow. "Stiles," he says easily. He's _very_ familiar with the name. "Stiles Stilinski. The sheriff's son."

"There, that's a start!" Laura exclaims, hopefully unaware of Derek's less than savory thoughts. "I mean, c'mon, he gave you CPR," she waggles her eyebrows suggestively because she's a horrible person, "and you haven't even gone to thank him."

Too bad he hardly even remembers the experience, only the smell of smoke, rough but careful hands cradling his face, the feeling of his warm breath across his cheek - "I did!" Derek protests indignantly, ears hot. It's a little embarrassing how fast his mind wanders these days.

"I don't think you coughing out a 'thanks' while half-conscious counts," Laura deadpans.  

Derek deflates. She has a point. "I still don't know exactly what you're asking me to do."

She lifts her chin, setting her hands on her hips. "As your big sister, I can't watch you go on like this. It's sad! Look at -," she gestures at his...everything exasperatedly, which just confuses him, "- this! I don't even know what you have to be insecure about!" Derek gives her a disbelieving look because how many times has she made fun of his people skills? "You should just walk up to him and try and talk to him, y'know?"

Derek glares at her. "Yeah, that wouldn't be creepy at all."

She rolls her eyes. "This isn't New York City, Derek. Beacon Hills is a small town. We're _supposed_ to be in everyone's business, to know their location at all times, their job, every member of their extended family, who's banging who, everything." She wags a finger. "Especially since we're werewolves."

Right. All being a werewolf does for him nowadays is make him want to roll on the ground in frustration. Then he pauses his thoughts, side-eyeing Laura. "Why are you suddenly so interested in this?"

"Glad you asked," Laura beams. "Because I found the solution for your pining. Because, lucky for you, the Beacon Hills Fire Department is constantly underfunded and they are hosting," she produces a flyer from her bag, "a kissing booth fundraiser at the county fair." 

Derek looks at her, unimpressed. Stiles doesn't participate in the kissing booths, he's checked - 

"And Mr. November is finally making an appearance."

Oh god. His hands fly to his pockets. Where's his wallet? Is the bank open yet? How fast can he liquidate his assets?

-

Who does the books for the fire department? If Stiles had been able to become a police officer - one joyride and you're disqualified forever, apparently -, he would be investigating the financials of the fire department, for sure. Because it is ridiculous how many fundraisers they have to do.

Kissing booth? Anytime there's a fair in a town. Car wash fundraiser? Bi-weekly, even in the winter. And of course, there's that terrible calendar that is the bane of his existence. Stiles swears every year to his supervisor that his comparatively thin body would only drag down sales but he isn't having any of it. Then for the holidays, he gets hysterical phone calls from Scott, who ordered a lifetime subscription for the sole purpose of mocking him.

He had been able to get out of the kissing booth fundraisers by whining excessively but apparently they're so poor that they need everyone. Even Greenberg. 

"Ugh, this is going to be like high school," Stiles groans as he and Boyd set up the booth. "I'll start my shift and everyone in line will just leave."

Boyd claps him on the back. "It's going to be fine," he says. Stiles sighs, straightening to peek out from behind the tent. His heart skips when he sees a pair of hazel eyes. "You looking for someone?"

Stiles quickly turns back. "Not really," he mumbles. Boyd hides a grin.

-

On the way to the booth, it starts to set in that Stiles will be kissing _other people_.

"How much money do you think I would need to just buy him." Then Derek says, slightly more reasonably, "Or maybe just all the kisses he would need to get to earn enough money."

"Ah, young love," Laura sighs as she drags Derek along.

"I need more money. No wait," Derek breathes sharply, panicking, "let's go home, this was a terrible idea. I think I might kill someone if I see them kiss Stiles."

"You are worse than every fangirl put together," Laura says with mild amazement. "Do your breathing exercises."

Derek digs his heels into the ground a little but Laura just plows forward effortlessly. "Are you sure mates aren't a thing?" Derek asks, his voice a little high-pitched. "Because I feel like it's a thing. A real, emotional soul bond thing. I think I should talk to Dad about this first."

"Here we are," Laura says cheerily, her hand still gripping tightly on Derek's arm. There's quite a line at the booth. He doesn't like it. "And oh look, they're already on Mr. October." She tugs on his arm. "Let's get in line."

Derek eyes the funnel cake stand. He wonders if he could make a believable story about falling into a fryer.

-

Stiles actually can't breathe.

"Oh my god," he gasps, quickly ducking back behind the tent. He reaches out and blindly grasps for something, which happens to be the back of Danny's shirt. "Oh my god, he's here."

Danny takes a glance outside. "Who?"

"The guy!" Stiles hisses. Danny stares blankly at him. " _The_ guy!"

Realization dawns on him. "Oh - that guy! From that fire up near the Preserve."

"Yes, that guy!" Stiles pokes his head out, only exposing his eyes. It really is Derek Hale, waiting in line to kiss him. _Willingly_. It - it must be a mistake, maybe it's his sister who wants to kiss him but Boyd said that Isaac told him that Laura Hale was married, so that doesn't make any sense - "Oh my god, what is he _doing here_?"

"I don't know why you're freaking out, Stiles," Danny says. "Isn't this a good thing? Didn't you guys have like, a moment?"

"He was barely conscious, I highly doubt he remembers -"

"Oh yeah," Danny snaps his fingers, "you said that he touched your face and the shiner you got on your head just stopped hurting, like he was magic or something -"

"You're making me sound like I'm infatuated with him -"

Danny gives him a look. "You're saying you aren't?"

Stiles sputters, unable to retort because he really is and it's kinda terrible, and then a voice shouts, "You're on in two, Bolinski!" 

He feels like throwing up. Except no, that would be a bad idea. Because _Derek Hale is waiting to kiss him_.

Danny takes another glance outside, nodding with a sort of envious approval. "You're a lucky man, Stiles," he sighs.

"Oh my god," is all Stiles says, his face bright red. "I'm not ready for this."

-

"I'm not ready for this," Derek says with an edge of desperation. "Put me out of my misery."

"I would never do such a thing," Laura scoffs, her claws digging into the sleeve of his leather jacket to keep him in place. She glances at her watch. "He should be here soon."

"I should just, run into him at the store or something, not this -"

"And here he is," a voice blares through the loudspeaker on top of the tent, "the one you've all been waiting for, here for his kissing booth debut, Mr. November himself! Stiles er, Stilinski!"

"Oh god," Laura whispers, "has Finstock turned our fire department into the Chippendales?"

Derek is too busy watching Stiles step out from behind the curtain. He hears Stiles mutter with disbelief, "There's actually a line?"

For the first time since the fire, they make eye contact. Stiles gives him a wobbly smile, his cheeks red.

Derek just wants to _jump him_.

"Stiles!" A voice cuts through his thoughts and he looks down to see the little girl in front of him in line jumping up and down excitedly. Stiles breaks eye contact, leaning over the table to smile at her.

"Amelia!" Stiles cries back with the same enthusiasm. "How's Pepper?"

"She's great!" She waves a photo in the air. "She had kittens!"

Stiles takes at the photo and coos. "Aw they're adorable!"

"Thanks again for rescuing Pepper from the tree, Stiles," Amelia says. Laura mouths a "whaaaat" at Derek, but he pays her no attention. Amelia waves a dollar with her other hand. "My momma gave me a dollar to give to you."

He holds out a plastic bucket for her to drop in the dollar. "Tell your mom thanks," he says, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. 

God, can he just keep him forever.

"And now it's all you," Laura whispers, pointedly retracting her claws just as Amelia goes back to her mom.

Anxiety hits Derek all at once the moment Stiles looks back at him. He immediately turns away, grasping furiously at Laura as she pulls away, pleading, "Laura, no, _Laura_ -"

"Heeey, Derek," Stiles calls uneasily. Derek freezes, turning slowly to face him. Stiles waves, his lips fixed in a lopsided grin, his cheeks still flushed.

 _He knows my name_ , Derek thinks, his heart pounding. Composing himself, he steps forward, stopping a safe distance away from the table because he honestly can't gauge his self-control at the moment. Because Stiles has _suspenders_  on. Derek breathes slowly and deeply through his nose. He's so close to him, it's so tempting to just reach out and touch him, trace every one of his features he's seen a million times, committed to memory. _Photos don't do you justice, I want to put my face on your face_ - "Stiles," he greets curtly. Good move.

"How have you been?" Stiles asks, tapping his fingers against the table. "Last time I saw you, you were smokin' hot. I - I mean," he quickly corrects, laughing nervously, "you were kinda literally smoking hot, covered in soot and shirtless for some reason. Not that you're not, y'know, hot anymore, or um -"

He's in so deep. Every word Stiles utters just makes him more endearing. "I've been good," he eventually answers, saving Stiles from further embarrassment.

Stiles fidgets, the grass beneath his feet rustling with his anxious movements. "So, what do you do?" He asks, rubbing his neck. "I never got the chance to ask. I went to visit you at the hospital, but you had already been discharged."

"I'm an accountant," Derek replies, hating himself as soon as the words leave his lips. Accountant. That's really attractive, Derek. _Let me seduce you with my offer of a quiet and stable life in suburbia_ , he thinks bitterly.

Much to his surprise, Stiles looks ecstatic. "Oh my god, you need to look at our books or something because I swear," he gestures wildly at the tent around him, "I'm told these fundraisers work, but I've washed so many cars and posed for so many damn pictures, I forget that I'm a firefighter sometimes."

Derek shrugs, smiling wryly. "I don't mind the extra fundraisers." Whoa, was that a line? Derek didn't even know he had lines. 

"Yeah?" Stiles breathes, face reddening. Derek tries very hard not to get distracted. Or jump over the table.

"I uh," Derek clears his throat, "actually wanted to come here to thank you, for what you did for us." He mentally kicks himself. _Yeah, just casually thank him for saving the most important people in your life, that's great._ He should've brought a gift. He's hopeless.

"It was - I was just doing my job," Stiles says, sheepish. "But you, though, I mean, you literally ran through fire and broke through doors to rescue your sister. That was amazing, even though at the time, I was mostly freaking out while trying to uhm revive you after you collapsed. You're pretty," he ducks his head, "amazing."

Derek doesn't even care if he's smiling like an idiot. Not even Laura's exaggerated gagging from beside the Ferris wheel can ruin this. "I think you're amazing too," he admits softly.

 _Finstock, they're having another moment and if you interrupt, you're totally violating the fireman bro code_ , someone hisses from behind the tent. "Well," Stiles says abruptly, clearly having heard, "you're welcome to show your uhm appreciation with a donation." He awkwardly pushes the bucket toward him. "And get a," he coughs, "kiss, if you want it." 

"This is a kissing booth, isn't it?" Derek says, reaching for his wallet. _Smoother than silk today_ , he thinks proudly as he takes a twenty out and drops it into the bucket. Stiles looks pleased, excited as he leans over the table. So far, so good. Derek glances down at Stiles' lips, watches his tongue dart out to wet his lips, slowly leans closer, _closer_ -

"How much money would I have to give you so you wouldn't have to kiss anyone else?" Derek blurts while he is two inches away from his ultimate goal, simultaneously destroying his streak of not sucking. Stiles blinks, lips parted. Derek hears Laura burst into hysterical laughter.

He closes his eyes. _Goddammit_.

"Forget I said anything," Derek says as he quickly pulls back, angry at himself and prepared to be forever alone, "I'm just gonna -"

In a split second, he's pulled in by the lapels of his jacket and he feels a soft mouth on his and _oh_ they're kissing. They're actually kissing, Stiles is right there, his face radiating heat, and Derek can see every eyelash, can touch him, can finally remember how Stiles felt and smelled and _tasted_ , woodsy and sweet and now, this time, aroused -

"A date," Stiles breathes when he reluctantly pulls away, his hands still fisted around his jacket.

Derek feels a little out of breath himself. "What?"

"That's what you'd have to give me," he clarifies. Then he adds, with a quiet laugh, "No money." A scuffle is heard briefly over the intercom.

"Okay," Derek agrees, nodding jerkily. "I can do that."

"You're gonna have to let CPR be an exception though," Stiles teases, "seeing as how it's a part of my job."

"It's okay," Derek says, giddy with happiness. "I'll start petitioning to outlaw fire."

Stiles huffs out a laugh, a smile spreading on his lips. Derek smiles helplessly back. 

 _Oh my god_ , Laura chokes out in the middle of a fit of giggles,  _I can't wait for when he finds out that you're not joking._

**Author's Note:**

> omg I even made backstories for them while writing this and just had to stop
> 
> Like Isaac is Derek's assistant and he gives Boyd updates on Derek to pass on to Stiles and Boyd does the same with updates on Stiles
> 
> And Stiles and Derek totally soul-bonded or something idk I'm just gonna stop now
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! Constructive criticism is always welcome.


End file.
